


Portraits of Us

by CarolPeletier



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolPeletier/pseuds/CarolPeletier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of glimpses into moments between Daryl and Carol following the events at Grady Memorial</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own absolutely NOTHING from The Walking Dead, comic book series or television series.

Portraits of Us

One

Daryl knelt in the tall grass, tightening the last knot around the cross before shoving it in the loose dirt at Beth Greene’s grave.  He felt the comforting hand on his shoulder, something he’d felt all too often in the last few days.  She was always there—his shadow—making sure he wasn’t alone.  This time, he reached up and caught her hand in his, unable to look up at her just yet, unwilling to see the pity and the fear in her eyes.  But he squeezed her fingers in his.

He didn’t know how to tell her.  He wanted to tell her.  There were so many things.  She had assumed the quiet stemmed from the grief and the regret and all of the things that he was blaming himself for, but in all honesty, seeing her alive and awake in that wheel chair at Grady had been the biggest relief of his life. 

“We should go,” Carol said softly after a few minutes.  The rest of the group was waiting in a large moving truck on the side of the road.  The second Beth had been buried, Rick had taken off with Noah, Tyreese, Michonne and Glenn to try to get the boy home, leaving Carol and Daryl in charge of leading the rest of the group.

“Yeah,” Daryl murmured quietly.  “Gettin’ late.”

“We can stay a few more minutes if you need.”

“No.  She’s gone.  Can’t change that.”  He stood, wiping the dirt off of his hands, and he faced her, looking her in the eyes for the first time in days.  Carol drew in a sharp breath and took a step back, seeing something in his eyes she hadn’t expected.  He was a man with something on his mind, and it was something he was afraid to tell her.  After everything they’d been through, he was keeping something from her. 

She reached out, her hand ghosting over his shoulder, comforting him.

“Daryl?” she asked gently.  “What is it?”

“Not here,” he said quietly, glancing over her shoulder to see several pair of eyes on them as the group lingered by the truck.

“Ok,” she said softly, giving him an encouraging smile. She knew not to push.  She knew he’d tell her when he was ready, when they both were.  And then he pulled her in, crushing her body to his in a tight hug.  She gasped softly, but relaxed, letting her arms fall around his neck.  She clutched his back, feeling his heart pounding against her chest, and they held each other like that for a few moments. 

“Glad you’re ok,” he said quietly, as she buried her face against his shoulder, fighting off the burning urge to cry.  When he released her, she took a couple of dizzying steps backward, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d frightened her.  He had never been the kind of man who just pulled people into hugs.  He’d never been the kind of guy to shed a tear of emotion.  He hadn’t been raised that way, and his father had literally beat it into him that emotion was for weak women and little girls.  But seeing Carol in the woods that day, he’d been too overcome to care.  He’d hug her every day for the rest of their lives if that meant that she was with him and unharmed. The last thing he ever wanted was to lose—or almost lose—her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

She watched him as he sat across the fire, pulling the blade of his knife across a piece of kindling.  He was whittling the end of it into a sharp point, his eyes glassy as he focused on the flames.  She looked around at the others by the fire.  Rick.  Michonne.  Everybody was exhausted, weak.  They were at their lowest, and despite the ache in her bones and the weight she carried on her shoulders, the only thing she could think about in that moment was Daryl.  He was lost.  She’d seen it when they’d gone out looking for water and food together, when she’d told him how Beth had saved her. 

And then, for a shining moment earlier that night, he’d adamantly pointed out that they weren’t ‘them.’  The walkers.  

 They were still here.  Breathing.  They weren’t dead.  They were something between human beings and walkers, but they were still clinging to the walls of humanity, holding on for dear life.

His eyes met hers from across the flames, and it startled her.  She took in a deep breath, and he watched her.  She felt the heat rise beneath her skin, and she swallowed hard, her fingers twitching in the dirt, the restlessness kicking in.

She stood, and Michonne looked up briefly before returning her focus to the fire.  Daryl watched her walk away, walk to the back of the barn, where just a while ago, they’d been bracing the doors against a herd of walkers.  Now it was still, silent as a tomb. 

Carol braced her hands against the door, peeking out into the darkness, where she could hear moans of walkers trapped beneath fallen tree limbs and debris.  The air the pulled through the gap in the door was cold and sweet, and she took in deep gulps of it, leaning her forehead against the musty wood.  She relaxed a little, feeling a little unsteady on her feet.  Her stomach ached as she thought back to her last meal, a meal none of them would ever forget.  In desperation, they’d choked it down and tried not to think about what it had meant for all of them, what they had been forced to do to survive.  It said so much.

“Hey.”  She nearly jumped at his low voice, turning around to see him walking toward her, something in his hand.  A music box.  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s ok.  Just needed some fresh air.”  Daryl nodded and looked down at the music box.

“Carl found this.  Gave it to Maggie.  Don’t work though.  She asked me to fix it.”

“Oh,” Carol said with a little nod.  She saw the way his fingers gently pried it open to reveal the lonely little ballerina inside.  “Maybe you should.”

“Maybe.”  He chewed his lower lip, and she saw that look, the look in his eyes at Beth’s grave.  She didn’t want to push him, because he would pull away, but it was tearing her up inside.  While not knowing was sometimes better than knowing, it was weighing heavily on her mind.  But he had the right to keep things to himself.  They all had something they weren’t ready to share with others yet.  It would take time.  They would survive, but it would take time.

“After all,” she said softly, “we could all use a little music in our lives again.”


	3. Chapter 3

Three

The RV broke down again about thirty miles from the destination.  The group had hunkered down for the night inside, everybody pressed into various nooks and crannies, trying to get comfortable and failing miserably.  Carol sighed heavily when Eugene snored loudly from where he was stretched across the two bucket seats up front. 

Pulling on her boots, she grabbed her rifle, slung it over her shoulder, hoisted her pack onto her other shoulder and opened up the RV door, feeling the cool air kiss her skin.  She took in a deep breath before she closed the door behind herself and headed to the back to climb up.  She half-expected to see Dale sitting up there on his lawn chair, peering into his binoculars beneath that funny fishing hat.  But all that greeted her was silence.  Finally. 

She sighed softly and placed the pack down on the cool top of the RV and removed her rifle, keeping it close by just in case.  Using the pack as a pillow, she relaxed against the rooftop and closed her eyes, yawning tiredly as she settled down for a restful sleep.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard the sound of boots against the ladder, and she didn’t even bother to reach for her gun.  She knew it was him.

“Eugene’s trying to break the sound barrier tonight,” Carol said with an amused grin, watching Daryl pull himself up and scoot his crossbow over by her rifle. 

“And Tara’s getting a little…handsy.”  He gestured vaguely, and Carol bit her lower lip.  “S’alright.  I pushed her over on Glenn.  He can explain that to Maggie in the morning.”  He slung his pack down next to hers and practically collapsed beside her.  She turned to face him, watching him yawn and stretch as he prepared to sleep. 

“Do you really think it’s safe?” she said gently.  Daryl took a deep breath, opening his eyes and looking up at the stars.

“Dunno,” he muttered.  “But what else is there?  We’re broken.  Where the hell else we gonna go?”

“We aren’t broken,” she murmured.  “We crack.  We put ourselves back together.  It’s what we do.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his head to look at her.  “You say that, but you ain’t puttin’ yourself back together.  You ain’t talked about it.  About what happened.”

“It’s not just what happened then,” she considered, staring up at the vast, black sky where millions of white stars dotted it like lights in a mesh curtain.  “It’s…my life has always been about being the good little wife and mother, getting knocked around when I step out of line even an inch.  And then everything changed, and Ed got killed, and it was just me and Sophia.  Then she was gone.  I just kept it all inside.  I tried to rationalize…everything.  I took what I learned from Sophia dying, and I tried to help the rest of the children at the prison.  They needed to learn how to not be vulnerable.”  She ran her fingers through her hair, catching the silver tresses for a brief moment before letting her hand fall flat against the RV.

“You did what ya had to do,” he remarked after several beats.  “You wanted ‘em to live.”

“I let myself get hard.  I let myself become the version of myself I always wished I was when I was with Ed.  The girls…Lizzie and Mika?  They were…I kept them at a distance, because I didn’t want them to call me ‘mom.’  I tried to…I tried to keep them at arm’s length, because I couldn’t stand the idea of losing Sophia all over again.”  She wiped her hand over her eyes, brushing back the tears. 

“You’re strong,” Daryl commented.  “But, hard?  You ain’t.  You still care about what’s important.  The group.  Survivin’.”

“I killed Karen and David.”

“For the group,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, that’s what I told myself, but to hear Rick tell it?”

“Fuck what Rick thought.  What he said.”

“Daryl, he’s gotten us this far.”

“I know that, but we wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.  You saved our asses at Terminus.  You did that.  Not Rick.”  He was silent for a moment, letting her take it in. 

“Losing Sophia…it was like a part of me died.”

“Got burned away,” he recalled, thinking back to their conversation at the abuse shelter in Atlanta. 

“Yeah,” she murmured.

“But you’re still here.”

“I’m still here.  I’m just not sure what that means anymore.”  She took a deep breath and let it out, her shoulders trembling as she peered over at him.  And then he watched as she began to sob, covering her face with her hands and turning away from him. 

“I shot her in the head.  Lizzie.  I pulled the trigger, and her knees buckled, and she fell forward.  So still.”  Carol shook her head.  “She was crying.  Afraid I was mad at her.  I was.  I…I hated her and I loved her in that moment.”  Carol’s shoulders shook as she sobbed, and Daryl leaned over, pressing his hand gently to her back.  “She killed her little sister.  She…she thought she could understand walkers.  She could relate to them more than she could relate to us.  We left them alone.  Tyreese and I.  We came back, and there she was, standing over Mika’s body with a bloody knife.  Judith was there, and if we hadn’t come back at that moment…”

“She’d have killed her too.”

“We buried them in the garden with the other children that had been there.”  She sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

“Hey,” Daryl murmured softly.  She looked over her shoulder before turning her entire body to face him.  His hand grazed softly over her shoulder, and she blinked back a new stream of tears that threatened to fall.  “C’mere.”  She scooted across the top of the RV, and he pulled one hand around her waist, pulling her close, letting her break down against him.  He hadn’t held a woman like this before.  He honestly wasn’t quite sure what to do, but he just went with it, letting her curl her fingers into his vest, letting her cry against his chest, letting her feel everything she’d been numbing herself to for far too long.  He stroked her hair, feeling her trembling under his hand.  “You’re ok.  We’re gonna be ok.”


	4. Chapter 4

Four

The first thing Carol did as soon as she unloaded her pack in her room was take a shower.  It wasn’t steaming hot, but it was warm and wet and there was soap and shampoo, and God, she never thought she’d be so happy to see a roll of toilet paper and an honest to goodness toilet.

She stood in the shower, the warm water trickling down her body, washing away the dirt and grime and muck that had stuck to her skin.  She ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, sighing with happiness everything washed away down the drain.

When she was finished, she toweled off and rummaged through the cabinets.  Deodorant.  Dental floss.  Those little travel-size bottles of mouthwash.  It was a beautiful thing to see.

She quickly freshened up before pulling on a new pair of clothes.  A form-fitting shirt that made her feel a little more confident in herself than the one she felt like she’d been wearing for years.  A pair of pants similar to the ones she’d been wearing, and those boots.  She couldn’t give up those boots. She and those boots had been through a lot together, and they were still in great shape.  She wouldn’t give those boots up.  Besides, she’d seen him staring at her in those boots, and as shallow and simple as it might have seemed, she’d feel a rush of heat through her core, sizzling under her skin when she’d see him take a long, lingering look at her from her boots up to her ass.  Maybe he couldn’t tell her what he felt, what he wanted, but he sure as hell was obvious when it came to staring.

She headed out of the bathroom, giving a contented smile to Michonne as she passed by her to take her turn.

“He’s out there, sitting on the porch like a lost puppy,” Michonne warned her.

“What?” Carol asked with a little chuckle. 

“Daryl.  He’s sitting out there, his crossbow propped up beside him.  He hasn’t even come in yet.”

“This is his home,” Carol said, furrowing her brow.  When housing arrangements had been made, Carol, Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Carl and Judith had taken the largest house with five bedrooms, and everybody had come inside to check out their new digs.  Except for Daryl.

“Try telling him that,” Michonne said with a shrug, as she pulled herself into the bathroom and shut the door.  With a weary sigh, Carol headed down the stairs and passed by the kitchen, where Rick and Carl were trying to cook up something for supper.  She poked her head in.

“Please don’t burn the place down, boys.  We just got here.” 

“Funny.  You’re a funny lady,” Rick snorted from the stove.

“If you’re taking orders, I’ll take a porterhouse, medium rare.” 

“Nice,” Rick said with an impressed nod.  Carol grinned and headed to the door.  She peeked out to see Daryl sitting on the porch, back to the rails, crossbow propped up beside him like a trusty old friend.  It was then that she realized what he was doing.  He was sitting watch.

She opened the door, peeking out.  He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers.

“You don’t have to do that anymore, you know.”

“You sure about that?” he asked, watching as she stepped across his feet and stood by the steps, staring out over the little town.  It was quiet, settling.  Somewhere, she could hear Rosita’s laugh, probably cracking up at something Tara had said.  She took a couple steps backward before turning to sit down next to Daryl, pulling her knees up, hugging her legs to her chest.   ‘What’re you doin’?”

“It’s nice out here.  I like it,” she said with a little nod, rubbing her fingers through her damp hair.  He flinched, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils, realizing she’d had a shower.  And then his thoughts began to wonder to those of her being naked, wet, dripping, and then to the even less innocent images of her being naked, wet, dripping and spread out on the bed, waiting for him. 

He shifted uncomfortably, bringing his crossbow across his lap to hide the evidence of his thoughts.

“You’re gonna get pneumonia out here,” he grumbled.

“Hey, if you’re not coming in, I’m staying out here, too.  It’s our first night in a new place.  I’m not sleeping in there if you aren’t.  It wouldn’t feel right.”  Daryl eyed her before turning his attention to his hand, picking at his cuticles.  “You don’t have to sit watch anymore, Daryl.”

“Don’t feel right.  Bein’ off guard.  Feels like the second we stop lookin’ out, somethin’ bad’s gonna happen.”

“I know,” she said with a nod.  “But for now, we’re safe.  We’re behind walls.  And we have a house.  And a shower.  And electricity.  Let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“How long’s it gonna last?” Daryl wondered, turning his head, leaning back a little, waiting for her to meet his gaze.  When she did, they both shared a little smile, and she shrugged her shoulders.  She pulled herself back to her feet and held her hand out to him.

“Come on.”

“Where we goin’?” he asked, grabbing her hand and coming to his feet.  Her smile widened, and she nodded toward the front door.

“We’re going home.”


	5. Chapter 5

Five

“Stop.”

“Daryl, I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“Ain’t funny.” 

“Ok . Ok!  I’m sorry,” Carol giggled, biting her lip as she flicked the towel around Daryl’s shoulder, pinching it in place with a clothes pin.  Her teeth curled up around her teeth, and she let out a snort before breaking down in a fit of giggles again.

“Shit,” Daryl muttered.  “A’right, just get it out of your system.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m done.”  She cleared her throat and tried her best to sober as she ran her fingers through the damp mop of hair on top of his head, running a comb through the last tangled bit to straighten it out. 

“Some five-year-old called me Lassie,” he muttered.  Carol lost it this time, burying her face against the back of his head for a second, her shoulder shaking as she fought to regain her senses. 

“It’s the whole sheepdog thing.  You need a good haircut.  When I’m done with you?  Lassie no more.” 

“You ain’t gonna lop my ear off or somethin’ like that are ya?”

“I’ll try to resist,” she snickered, making the first cut.  He ducked his head, his shoulders hunching up as he heard the sound of scissors against wet hair.  “Hold still, or your hair’ll be so uneven I’ll have to shave your head.  Imagine the names you’ll get then.”  Daryl muttered something under his breath, and Carol bit back a smirk.  “It’s ok.  You’ll always be Pookie to me.”


	6. Chapter 6

Six

“You said ‘not here.’”  Daryl turned sharply at the sound of her voice.  He’d been sitting on the front porch cleaning his bow, not that he was getting much use out of it lately.  She leaned against the door frame and peered out from behind the screen door.

“What?”

“That day by Beth’s grave.”  The screen door creaked on its hinges as she opened it and slammed shut as she walked through and moved to sit by him on the porch.  The sun was setting, and a chill was in the air, and she pulled her arms around herself to keep warm.

“Oh,” he murmured, his fingers trembling and slipping over the bolt.  He fumbled with it for a moment longer before he sat it down on the other side of him. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” she offered.

“That day in the woods?  After Terminus?”  He saw her nod, her eyes glassing over briefly at the memory.  “Never thought I was gonna see you again.  Thought you…you had to be dead, ‘cause Rick sent you away, and then everything fell apart.” 

“To be honest, when I drove up to the prison after everything happened, I thought you were dead, too.  In a way, I think I mourned you.  It was…”  She shook her head.  “It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.”  She looked down. “Let me tell you something, Daryl Dixon.  The next time I mourn you, it had better be when we’re old and sitting in rocking chairs.  We’ll be watching the sun set just like we are right now.”

“Then you’ll put a knife in my skull, right?”

“Oh, of course,” she said with a light nod.  “And you better damned well do the same for me if I go first.”  Daryl nudged her shoulder, and she gave him a smile.  “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“Now?” he asked.

“Mmm.”

“Nope.”  She sighed, but she saw the smile pull at his lips and decided that whatever it was that he was mulling over couldn’t be too bad. 

“Alright.  I can wait.”


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

It happened out of nowhere.  They were in the kitchen, and Carol was wiping down the table after their meal.  Rick had retired to put Judith to bed, while Carl and Michonne were engaged in a serious debate about some comic book character that neither Daryl nor Carol had ever heard of.  Eventually, the debate had become so heated that they’d taken it outside on the porch to duke it out.  Loser was definitely getting laundry duty for the next two weeks.

Daryl was leaning against the counter, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched her work.  He’d just put the last dish away, and he was waiting on her to finish. Why?  He wasn’t sure.  He just liked to linger and wait for her so they could go on their nightly patrol around the block.  Really, there was no need for it, but it was an excuse for both of them to just get out of the house for some fresh air.

“I swear, Judith gets more food on the table and floor that she does in her mouth,” Carol chuckled, turning and tossing the rag into the sink.  Daryl made some sort of huffing, chuckling noise that strangled in the back of this throat, and Carol narrowed her eyes briefly at him before grinning and moving to grab the towel to dry the table off with.

It was when she reached around him to get it, his hand darted out, brushing over her arm.  She froze, leaning around him, hand on the counter, eyes gazing up into his.  Her breath caught just as he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers in the softest kiss she’d ever experienced.  And just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and he stood frozen against the counter.  Her hand slipped against the surface, and she nearly fell into him.  He pulled his hands around her waist, steadying her.

“Ok?”

“Ok,” she said with a little nod, her lips curling into a bashful grin as Daryl’s fingers lingered against her waist.  He let go of her and swallowed hard, the awkward tension becoming so thick he couldn’t breathe.  Finally, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his, lingering there for a few moments before she pulled away and turned to walk out of the room.

He let out a slow breath, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears.  He gripped the counter with his hands, leaning back against his, resting the back of his head against a cabinet.  With a little nod, he whispered to nobody in particular, “ok.”


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

The next few kisses were a tad clumsy and awkward, as they both tried to get used to making it a casual part of their changing relationship.  A few mornings after the first kiss, they had been standing in the kitchen drinking their morning coffee when she’d stood on her tippy toes to press a soft kiss to his lips before the rest of the household woke.   In a smooth move, he’d taken her cup and his and put them on the counter before swiftly pulling her closer, pressing his lips against hers and sliding his tongue between her lips. 

She’d taken a shaky breath and coughed, breaking their kiss and causing them both to look at one another all red-faced.  Then they’d tried again, his nose bumping into hers, their lips trying to find that perfect place where they just melted together.  Her hands had moved up his back, gripping his shirt.  And finally, he’d pushed her back against the counter, and she’d leaned back just a little, sighing contentedly as he kissed her softly before tasting her once more. 

When they’d broken apart, she’d gently wiped her thumb across his lips before wriggling out from  between his arms which were pressed firmly against the cupboard on either side of her head. Then he’d followed her into the living room, where they’d collapsed on the couch for a little more practice before the rest of the household made it impossible to have any privacy whatsoever.

Somehow, she ended up on her back with Daryl pressed against her, looking down at her, his face flush red as her hands gently grazed under his shirt and over his back.  He sucked in a sharp breath at the funny, tingling sensation as her fingers passed over his scars.  In some of them, he had no feeling whatsoever.  In others, it was a strange, ghostly feeling of pressure as his nerves willed themselves to connect.

She couldn’t help but giggle when his hand grazed over the side of her breast, and he pulled back quickly like he’d been burnt.

“We’re not in high school, you know,” she murmured against his lips, taking his bottom lip between her teeth gently, giving him a little nip.  “I’m not gonna slap you if you touch my boob.”  Daryl snorted at that, burying his face against her neck.  She moaned softly as his lips pressed against the curve of her neck, and he slid his tongue up behind her ear, tasting the sweet saltiness of her skin. 

Just as his hand was brushing over the top of her shirt, palming her breast in his hand, someone cleared their throat from behind the couch.  Carol looked up quickly, peering over Daryl’s shoulder, and she saw Michonne standing there with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Morning,” she said in the most perky, morning-person tone that Carol had ever heard out of the woman.  “What’s for breakfast?  I see you two already moved on to dessert.”


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

Carol paced in front of the porch steps where Abe and Daryl sat looking a little pissed off and guilty at the same time.  Abe had the beginnings of a shiner on his eye, and Daryl was rubbing his sore knuckles. 

“So neither one of you are gonna tell me?” she asked, her gaze flitting back and forth between the two.  Abe went to open his mouth.

“No,” Daryl muttered, cutting him off.  “It’s over.  Don’t matter now.” 

“You punched Abraham.  In the face,” Carol pointed out.

“Yeah,” Daryl said with a nod.

“And you’re not gonna say anything about it?” she asked, looking to Abraham. 

“No,” Abraham muttered after a moment’s consideration.  “He’s right.  It’s over.”  Carol sighed with exasperation.  “Alright.  I can see I’m not needed here.  You boys place nice now.”  She gave Daryl a pat on the shoulder as she headed into the house, screen door slamming behind her.  Daryl ducked his head, and Abraham snorted.

“What?” Daryl asked, a tense, mulish furrow playing over his brow. 

“Guess it’s true.”  Abraham stood, brushing his hands on his pant legs.  “Guess you really aren’t hitting that.”  Daryl stood, staring Abraham in the face, stepping close him, fist clenched. 

“You watch your mouth about her,” he warned.  “You got a whole other eye that could use a good hittin’.”  Abraham stepped closer with a shit-eating grin on his face.  All he’d said to Daryl was that Carol cleaned up well and looked good in those jeans.  Alright, so he’d said that she had the ass of a twenty-five year old and he wouldn’t mind getting between those legs.  And that had started it all.

“Just sayin’, Dixon, if you ain’t hitting that, you best step to it before someone swoops in and steals your woman.”

“Dude,” Glenn Rhee commented, walking past with an armful of supplies for his house.

“Stay out of it,” Daryl snapped.

“Just saying, Abe, if you want to keep all of your teeth, I’d refrain from using the phrase ‘hitting that’ in reference to Carol.  Not cool, dude.  Not cool.”  Glenn shook his head and walked on, leaving Abraham and Daryl facing each other once again. 

“Didn’t mean any disrespect,” Abraham said, raising his hands.  “You know her better than I do.”  He turned and walked away, and Daryl moved up the porch and toward the front door.

“Damn right,” he muttered under his breath before ducking in to nurse his aching hand and hope Carol never again brought up the question of why he punched Abraham Ford in the face.


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

“I love you.”  Carol choked on the sip of coffee she had just take as they sat on the porch watching the other residents of Alexandria start their morning routines.  Mr. and Mrs. Williams down the street were out walking their dog.  Aiden and his runners were off for supplies.  Carl and Enid were walking close together, hands almost touching in a way that Carol found reminiscent of her and Daryl’s relationship before.  Just there but with a tentative gap between them, neither sure how to move into that new space.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide as she turned her head to look at him.

“It’s what I was gonna say.  That day at Beth’s grave.”  Carol sucked in a sharp breath.  “I didn’t wanna do it there, partly ‘cause I didn’t know how you’d react.  Partly ‘cause…”

“You can tell me,” she whispered as she placed her hand over his, soothing his knuckles. 

“She’s gone.  She just…she’s just gone, all I could think about when we was standin’ there at her grave was that I was so goddamned thankful you’re still here.  I wanted to tell ya, ‘cause the way Beth died?  Just shows it could be any one of us, any time.  And I wanted ya to know that I love ya, ‘cause I don’t wanna miss the chance to tell ya again.”

“Daryl,” Carol whispered softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.  “You know I love you too, right.”   Daryl leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. 

“Yeah,” he murmured.  “I know.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

“You got freckles behind your knees,” Daryl murmured.  He pressed kisses along her collarbones, and her neck, and she giggled as the stubble on his chin scratched against her skin. 

“My knees?” she asked with a laugh.  “Well, I suppose you’re the only one who’s been in the position to notice such a thing.”  She draped her leg over his hip, feeling him hard and ready for the next round as he pressed against her entrance.  She moaned softly, opening her thighs as he nudged against her.  But he paused, instead moving down the length of her body, pressing kisses down the valley between her breasts, taking time to run his tongue over the hardened peaks before pressing gentle kisses to the undersides of them.  She arched her back as his lips pressed against her stomach, and her hands moved into his hair. 

“Taste so good,” he murmured.  He gave the flesh below her belly button a gentle nip, and she strained forward to see what he was doing.  He nudged her thighs apart when they clenched instinctively.  “S’alright.”

“Daryl,” she gasped, her body shuddering as he moved his hand against her cleft, prodding her, circling her, loving her.  “You don’t have to…I mean…it’s…”  Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly now, as a flush of heat coiled through her belly and moved downward to her core. 

Daryl moved his hand up, brushing his thumb over her lips, and she could taste herself on him.  It was when she flinched that he realized. Nobody had done this for her before.  Somebody had busted up her confidence and made her lock her desires up tight to suit his own needs.  If Ed Peletier wasn’t already dead, Daryl would likely have driven an axe through his head just for that. 

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands smoothing down her thighs, opening her up to him again.  “You don’t like it, just tell me.  I’ll stop.”  He watched the way the flush filled her cheeks.  She bit her lip and nodded, lying back against the mattress. 

The first tentative stroke of his fingers as he parted her lips had her reeling, her knees trembling as his breath hit her center.  She moaned, her hips jerking off the bed, knocking her pelvis against his chin as he leaned in to taste her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands fisting into the bed sheets as he glanced up at her.

“Shh,” he murmured.  “Lay back.”  He gently placed his hand on her stomach, and she relaxed a little, despite the fact that her heart was hammering against her ribs

At the first gentle nudge of his tongue against her folds, she was peeling the fitted sheet off the corners of the bed, her fingers twisted into them as she held on for dear life.  She moaned softly as he tasted her, his tongue flattening against her clit as she rocked her hips gently in rhythm with his motions.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out over her skin, and his fingers danced along her slippery thigh as he loved her with his mouth.  She cried out when she felt that familiar pull deep inside, the one she’d felt just minutes before when he’d been inside of her, filling her, easing that ache she’d been feeling for far too long. 

“Oh God,” she cried out, shutting her eyes, arching back, feeling the cool breeze fluttering through the window caressing her skin.  She moaned as his calloused archer’s fingers moved expertly over her most sensitive places.  “Daryl!”

“S’alright, sweetheart.  Let go.”  Tears filled her eyes as her body rippled with desire, as fire scorched through her veins, rushing through her like a bolt of white hot lightening.  Her body tensed as the wave hit her, and Daryl kissed his way up her body, never moving his hand from between her legs as he stroked her through her orgasm.

“Oh God!” she cried out, her toes curling into the mattress.  And when he saw her mouth fall open in a silent gasp, he stopped touching her, merely placing his hands on either side of her head on the mattress, hovering over her, watching her ride out the high on her own, writhing on the mattress as she came back to herself.  Her hands relaxed against the sheets, and Daryl leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.  “Daryl…”

“You ok?”

“That...” she panted, “was the most…amazing...oh God…”  She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, feeling his shoulders shake against her as he chuckled.  “You’re amazing.”  He grinned and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.  Her knees shook as she framed his hips with them, straddling him, sliding herself against his length. He groaned, placing his hands on her hips and staring up into those beautiful sky blues.  She cocked her head to the side for a moment, and he licked his lips, stroking her thighs with his fingers. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she panted.  “I’ve just never…never with anyone who…”  He watched her blink back tears, and he reached up, stroking the side of her face.

“Hey,” he murmured, “me neither.  Want you to know that.  Want you to know you’re the only one who ever made me feel like I’m worth anything.”

“You’re worth _everything_ to me.”  And he believed her, feeling the warmth spread through his chest as he enveloped her in his arms and brought her back down to claim another kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve

Daryl caught the look Carol gave him as he flicked his cigarette butt over the railing of the back porch.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly, her gaze on his lips.

“Ain’t nothin’.   He scooted closer to her on the porch swing that he’d set up all because Carol had mused about enjoying watching the sunset from a porch swing when she was growing up.  Three hours later, Carol had a porch swing.

“How many more packs do you have?” she asked, strumming her fingers against the chain.  

“Dunno.  Four or five?”

“And you plan on getting more?”

“I didn’t think about it,” he shrugged. 

“Ed smoked,” she said quietly, her gaze low.

“I ain’t Ed.”

“No.  But I don’t particularly enjoy kissing an ashtray.”  She was in a mood today. 

“Oh,” he said with a nod.  “I can find some breath mints…”

“Or you could stop smoking,” she offered.  She raised her eyebrow. 

“Guess I could.  Never gave much thought to it.”

“I just…”  She sighed heavily.  The last thing she wanted to do was change him, and maybe that was how her tone was coming across, but now that they had walls around them, now that they finally had each other and knew how each other felt, the last thing she wanted to do was think about losing him.  She noticed the way he brought his thumb between his teeth and how he bit at the nail by the cuticle.  Her eyebrow quirked, and she thought back to her freshman psych class many years ago.  He heard a giggle bubble up in her chest.

“What?”

“You have an oral fixation,” she pointed out.  She saw his ears go red, and he made a little choking sound in his throat.

“A what?”

“If you’re not smoking, you’re biting at your nails.  You’re constantly putting things in your mouth.”

“We talkin’ ‘bout you or me now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.  It was Carol’s turn to blush.  “’Sides, I didn’t hear you complainin’ ‘bout me putting ‘you in my mouth last night.”  Carol ducked her head, her cheeks flushing pink. 

“Daryl Dixon!” she hissed.

“What?” he snorted.  “Just a habit.  I can give ‘em up if you don’t want me to smoke.”

“It’s not…I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” she insisted.  “I just…I love you, and being here?  In this place?  I just can’t help but think that we might actually grow old together.  Maybe these walls won’t last, but there’s hope again, and that’s something.”

“I’ll quit in the  mornin’,” he promised.

“You will?”

“Sure, but we might have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“When I get a craving, I can’t promise my mouth ain’t gonna have a mind of its own.”  He wiggled his brows at her, and she snorted.

“Well, I think we can _both_ get something out of this.  Hmm.”  She grinned and leaned in to kiss him.  “I think I can live with that.”  Daryl snorted this time and leaned in to kiss her neck, and it wasn’t long before she was standing, pulling him by the hand and leading him inside to experience the upsides of Daryl’s oral fixation.


End file.
